


something old, something new

by damerons (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: Sucker Punch (2011)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/damerons
Summary: Blue can't have Babydoll, but he can have you.
Relationships: Blue Jones/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	something old, something new

He presses his lips to the shell of your ear and calls you, “Baby,” and before her, you would have liked it. But you saw his face when Babydoll danced. You saw the desire, and the frustration lurking underneath—that she was intended for the High Roller.

(That she was _not_ intended for Blue.)

It was one dance. But oh, you know Blue. You’ve known him. It’s only a matter time before he takes her, like he takes everything he wants.

Only a matter of time until he no longer needs you.

But you’re not there yet. He keeps you back in the dressing room after the show and it is like dozens of times before. You, loitering at your vanity as though your make-up is particularly troublesome to remove. And then there’s Blue: slow, precise footsteps across creaky wood; a figure appearing behind you in your reflection; fingers feather-light on your shoulder, lips against your skin and whispered words.

“You stick around just for me, baby?”

Consolation. You’re Blue’s consolation ‘baby’ and it makes your breath catch in your throat, but you nod. “Always. I’m always just for you.”

You watch his reflection’s eyes fall shut as he groans; his grip on your shoulder tightens so much that Madame Gorski would probably be worried about bruising. “Fuck yes, baby. You’re all mine.”

“All yours,” you agree softly, turning to face him. As long as he’ll have you.

He captures your mouth with his, and there is nothing controlled about the kiss. His tongue is desperate, he nibbles and bites your lip and your skin and breathes, “Baby,” over and over, and you moan as though it is you that he’s calling for.

Blue has never been patient, but he is particularly _desperate_ tonight. He grabs you by the waist and lifts you forcefully to your feet, kicking your chair away. Kissing you all the while.

He presses you against the vanity, and as soon as your bodies slot together, you feel him—his erection, pressing against you through his pants and the thin layer of your lingerie. He ruts against you haphazardly as you kiss, more out of a needy impulse than a true desire to get off in his pants like a fucking teenager.

(Even though he did, the first time you touched him. You stroked him over the fabric and then tucked your hand into his pants, making him come with a shuddering gasp while you rode his thigh to your own climax.)

Tonight, though, he wants to be inside you, and you know it. You want it too, even if his fingers push your flimsy lingerie aside and press into your folds to feel you wet and eager for him, and Blue whispers, “Fuck, let me—”

Something in you doesn’t want him to finish that sentence, so you kiss him hard and fumble for his belt.

He likes it when you sit on the vanity, matching his height almost perfectly, but at the same moment that you’re about to climb up to sit, his hands settle on your hips and turn you roughly around.

“Bend over for me, baby.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror when Blue presses inside of you, and for a shining, lingering moment, you feel like his.

And then he begins to fuck you in earnest, and his gaze falls away.


End file.
